


if we shadows

by Loslote



Series: Four Seasons [2]
Category: Halloweentown (1998), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Autumn, Falling In Love, First Time, Fluff, Getting Together, Halloween, Halloweentown AU, Just a lot of pumpkins, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-27 23:51:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5069713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loslote/pseuds/Loslote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Scott is bitten by a werewolf on Halloween night, the Stilinski-McCall family is whisked away to a parallel world called Halloweentown so that Scott can learn to control his new instincts. With going on coffee dates with Derek Hale, Scott's werewolf mentor, making a new best friend in Scott's crush, Allison Argent, and finding his calling working with the Hale pack ravens, will Stiles even want to go home when the year is up?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I recently moved to New England, and I'm enjoying fall here so much I just had to write a Halloween AU! Enjoy.
> 
> Warnings: Stiles is sixteen here, and Derek is nineteen, and also teaching a class about werewolves at the high school. He is never Stiles' teacher, and while they do have what is technically underage sex (semi-offscreen), there is only a three year age gap. Don't read it if that weirds you out!
> 
> Oh, and I have the rest of this either written out or thoroughly outlined, so don't worry, the second (and last) chapter will be up soon!

Stiles and Scott couldn’t go to Lydia Martin’s Halloween party this year. Scott at least used to get pity invites, and he would drag Stiles along, but ever since their parents got married, they were both labeled the Sheriff’s kids, and not even Greenburg was dumb enough to invite the Sheriff’s kids to the kind of parties Lydia Martin threw.

And Stiles had to figure out something to do instead, right, because when he asked Scott, the only idea Scott had come up with was to help Dr. Deaton put cute little monster costumes on puppies. And then help the kids who were too young to trick or treat pet them. And, just, no.

So this whole mess? Was definitely not Stiles’ fault. He informed Scott of this as he stared at the blood oozing out of the bite mark on Scott’s side.

“I am not at fault,” he said, patting at the blood with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Dude, is now really the time?” Scott wheezed.

“I just think it’s important that we acknowledge what happened here,” Stiles said, petting Scott’s knee comfortingly. “This was a tragic accident. Nothing could have been done to prevent it. We are all very sad at this turn of events, which was completely out of either of our hands.”

Scott rolled his eyes so hard that his head moved with them, briefly blocking out the light of the full moon behind the trees. “You were the one who wanted to go drink Dad’s whiskey in the Preserve,” Scott said.

“See, this is the kind of petty infighting I was hoping to prevent,” Stiles said.

“Stiles!” Scott - huh, growled. That was...different. “Can we just go to the hospital?”

“Dude, no, Mom’s on shift!” Stiles protested, accidentally pressing too hard against Scott’s bite mark. “Shit, sorry,” he mumbled, pulling back. “Okay, okay, better plan,” he said. “We go to Dr. Deaton’s. He’ll slap a bandage on it, maybe give you a rabies shot, and it’ll be fine. You know how Deaton hates telling anyone anything, he won’t rat us out.”

“Stiles, the vet’s office is closed,” Scott said, rolling his eyes.

“No, it isn’t. It’s open all night for that puppy thing, remember?”

“Oh, yeah!” Scott said, hoping to his feet with a wince and a hiss of pain. Stiles flinched in sympathy. “Alright, let’s go.”

Luckily, they had never quite made it to the alcohol portion of the evening. In hindsight, Stiles wasn’t sure how they would have gotten home if the night had gone as planned, since there was no world in which he was willing to risk getting caught driving drunk by his dad. He wisely refrained from pointing out this bright side to Scott, who was muttering curses every time Stiles drove over a bump in the road and would probably not appreciate that little nugget of optimism.

“See, he’s still there,” Stiles said cheerfully as they pulled into the vet’s office. Deaton was just starting to lock up, but when he looked up and saw the Jeep park next to his car, Stiles waved excitedly at him - leaning over Scott so that Deaton could see him better and ignoring Scott’s cries of “Stiles, get off me, I’m injured” - Deaton slumped with a visible sigh and unlocked the front door.

“What did you do this time?” Deaton asked as Stiles flailed his way out of the Jeep, Scott on his heels.

“Okay, so, we were in the Preserve, doing totally nothing wrong, you know, like you do, when suddenly - ”

“I got bitten,” Scott interrupted, elbowing Stiles in the side and shooting him a glare. Stiles rubbed his ribs and pouted. “It was this wolf thing? I think? I dunno. Stiles says there are no wolves in California.”

“There aren’t,” Stiles interjected.

“No,” Deaton said, his expression darkening. “No, I’m afraid there are not.”

After poking and prodding Scott for a while, followed by a drawn-out interlude of staring at him with a grim face while ignoring Stiles’ totally respectful request to know what was going on, Deaton nodded once and announced that he was going to call their parents.

“What?” Stiles yelped. “No! You’re all chill and mysterious, why would you actively try to give people information? That’s like, completely out of character.”

Deaton looked the closest to having an emotion Stiles had ever seen. The whole effect was closer to constipated than anything, though, so Stiles was struggling to interpret what was happening on Deaton’s face. “I’m afraid the time for secrecy has passed,” Deaton said with a grave eyebrow furrow. Stiles groaned loudly.

“Yeah, but do you have to call my dad?” he definitely did not whine.

~-_-~-_-~

Because the Sheriff couldn’t get off work for another hour, and Melissa was at the hospital for another two after that, Deaton put Stiles and Scott to work cleaning up the mess from the puppy cuddle earlier that evening. Scott lasted maybe fifteen minutes before curling up on a pile of blankets patterned with pumpkins, black kittens, and fallen leaves and passing out. Stiles joined him a few minutes later.

He woke up to his dad and Melissa hovering over them, looking simultaneously concerned and amused. Stiles flailed in surprise, startling Scott awake.

“Ow! Stiles!” Scott yelped, “you hit my…” he trailed off, looking stunned.

“Oh, yeah,” Stiles said sheepishly. “Um, so Scotty here might have...have gotten...well, not gotten, it’s not like he went out asking for it, even though we all know that’s victim blaming and lazy thinking anyway, so I’m sure you would be smart enough to know better than to blame us for this, and - ”

“No, Stiles, it’s gone,” Scott interrupted, yanking his shirt up to show off blood- stained but perfectly smooth skin.

“Oh my god,” Stiles said. “What the hell?”

“Stiles, language,” the Sheriff said absently, frowning at the blood stains. “And yes, Scott, Dr. Deaton told us this might happen.”

“What might happen?” Scott asked, prodding at the smooth skin on his hip.

“You’ve been bitten, Mr. McCall,” Deaton said ponderously from the corner, “by a werewolf.”

“Happy Halloween to us,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. “Seriously, though, why’d it disappear like that?”

“I am being serious, Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton said. “It may seem incredible, but I must ask you to bear with me while I explain. I’m afraid we do not have unlimited time.” He paused dramatically. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Go on, then,” he said.

“There exists a world parallel to ours,” Deaton said, “and residents of the two worlds can only cross between one night a year. October 31st. Halloween. In this world reside the creatures of myths and legends, among them, werewolves. One such werewolf sadly lost control of his sanity, escaped into this world, and bit Mr. McCall.” Stiles glanced at his parents, who seemed completely on board with what Deaton was saying. And really, if someone were going to play a Halloween prank, it would be basically anyone other than Deaton. Shit. That meant...

“I told you there were no wolves in California,” Stiles said, lightly smacking Scott’s arm. Scott glared at him.

“There weren’t,” he said, pointedly glancing at his former bite mark.

“True!” Stiles said. “Hey, does this give Scotty superpowers? Can he leap tall buildings in a single bound? Can he fly? Oh! Will this cure his asthma?”

“Yes, he will experience heightened senses and abilities, and he should no longer have any problems with asthma,” Deaton nodded.

“Dude,” Stiles said, “you’re gonna be better at lacrosse than Jackson!”

“Actually, I’m afraid that’s the downside,” Deaton said. “Scott here has no control of his shift yet, and no one to teach him control. Without control, he poses a threat to himself, his family, the public at large, and threatens the secrecy of the other world. Scott cannot stay in this world until he has learned control, and your parents have elected to join him.”

“Oh, no,” Stiles said.

“Follow me,” Deaton said, “and I can escort you to your new home.” He opened the door to the clinic, and Stiles jumped when he saw a big yellow school bus hovering right outside the door. Stiles shivered as the opened door let in a draft of chilly night air.

“Don’t people notice that?” Stiles asked.

“You’d be surprised what people don’t notice,” Deaton said, smiling. He climbed up into the bus and took a seat right behind the driver, a tiny girl with bright pink hair as big as she was and pink skin to match. “Hop on.”

Stiles and Scott sat together across the aisle from their parents. Stiles clutched Scott’s hand when he felt a lurch in his stomach, and then they went flying through smoke and colored lights to eventually land in front of a huge stone brick city hall covered in vines. The city hall stood in front of a town square, with food stands and decorations filling the lawn. A giant pumpkin stood in the center, and as they got off the bus, they found themselves surrounded by monsters of all sorts. Two hags bought apple cider from a mummy at a stand, a couple of skeletons giggled while watching a tall, bright blue ogre carve a jack-o-lantern, a witch swept fallen leaves into a pile with a gesture, and two black cats perched on a low brick wall, staring eerily at the passengers as they stepped off the bus.

“My sister, Marin Morrell, has arranged lodgings for your family,” Deaton said, leading them through the square and onto a cobblestone street lined with old brick and white wood frame houses, colorful trees surrounded by fallen leaves, and more pumpkins in one place than Stiles has ever seen before. Deaton stopped in front of a modest-sized white wood house with a porch and dark red shutters.

“The Hale pack are covering your rent for as long as Scott requires training, as an apology for Peter’s actions,” Deaton said. “My sister will be in touch with you in the morning about career options and how best to integrate the boys into the local high school.”

“Thank you,” Melissa said, looking bewildered. 

“Welcome to Halloweentown,” Deaton said.

~-_-~-_-~

Stiles woke up in the morning from a strange dream - probably too much whiskey - and rolls over with a snuffle-snort, only to freeze when he saw, not his usual desk and posters, but instead Scott, asleep on a bed across the room that was definitely not there yesterday. Stiles looked around, realizing that his walls were no longer blue, but deep green, the ceiling was wooden with thick, cobwebby rafters running the length of it, the windows now overlooked huge, colorful maple trees and - and Scott was a werewolf. 

Everything came rushing back to him at the sight of Scott, wolfed out in his bed with little fangs poking out from under his lips and his leg twitching like a dog’s does when it dreams about chasing rabbits. Scott was making these little growling snores and his nose was twitching. Stiles flailed out of the bed and onto the floor, mostly landing upright.

“Holy shit,” he yelped, the noise startling Scott awake. Scott sat up supernaturally fast, his eyes flashing yellow and his claws digging into the sheets.

“Oh my god what’s wrong,” he yelled back, staring wide-eyed at Stiles.

“What did I do to your face,” Stiles yelped.

“Damn it, Stiles, did you draw another dick on my face?” Scott lisped between his fangs.

“No!” Stiles shrilled, “I turned you into a werewolf! A werewolf, Scott! How can you be thinking of face dicks at a time like this?”

“Oh,” Scott said. “I thought we agreed that wasn’t your fault?”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said. The door opened and their dad peeked in.

“You boys alright?” he asked.

“I mean, Scott’s still a werewolf,” Stiles said.

“Right then. You boys get dressed and come downstairs, your mother and I have been talking with Morrell about your new classes.”

“This early in the morning?” Stiles asked, incredulously. Scott spoke up at the same time.

“Stiles and I will be in the same classes, right?”

Stiles hadn’t even thought of that. “Dad, we just moved to a completely separate world with monsters and stuff! Hell, Scotty got turned into a werewolf! Do we really have to go to school already?”

“Yes, you have to go to school,” the Sheriff drawled. “And you’ll be in mostly the same classes, only Scott, you’ll have werewolf lessons in the afternoons, and Stiles, you’ll be in practitioner’s magic.”

“I’m learning magic?” Stiles gaped. 

“I’m told it’s very beginner’s level stuff,” his dad said. “Apparently, students here study their particular flavor of...supernatural in the afternoons, and practitioner’s magic is the only class you can take in that time slot as a human.”

“Learning magic sounds cool,” Scott said. “I just get to learn how to bite stuff.”

“Actually, I think the point is to learn not to bite stuff,” Stiles said, nudging Scott with his shoulder. “Like me, for instance.”

“I’d never bite you,” Scott said, endearingly earnest.

“Get dressed, get downstairs,” the Sheriff said, looking at them fondly. “Ten minutes.”

“Yes, sir,” Stiles chirped, laughing. He still had his Scotty, and he still had his parents. The only thing he didn’t have in this world was Lydia Martin, and even he’d begun to give up on his ten-year plan by now. Maybe a year in Halloweentown wouldn’t be so bad.

~-_-~-_-~

After a month in Halloweentown, Stiles was still not sure if he liked it or not. He was lonely quite a lot of the time. He and Scott only shared history, math, and crafts (surprisingly, Stiles’ most difficult class), and Scott’s werewolf classes often went long or moved to the evenings, leaving Stiles sitting at home alone (or, more likely, raking up yet another batch of fallen leaves - the trees never seemed to run out, somehow, so Stiles had to rake them up everyday) while his dad and Melissa were at their new jobs. He also found himself behind in all of his classes except math, his old education not really at all applicable at Halloweentown High.

To be fair, not all of the changes were bad, and some things had even improved. The high school contingent of the local werewolf pack, four kids in black leather jackets named Cora, Erica, Boyd, and Isaac, waved when they passed each other in the halls, which was nice. Stiles loved some of his classes, even if a lot of the material went over his head. 

His history class, which focused very little on actual history and quite a lot on interspecies relations, was probably his favorite. The teacher, an old woman with green skin (“it’s not impolite to call someone a hag if that is literally their species, Stiles”) named Ms. Powler, reminded Stiles of Coach Finstock, except that she wasn’t actually crazy and never spoke louder than a whisper. Scott sometimes had to repeat what she said when Stiles couldn’t hear.

His crafts class had probably the steepest learning curve. Stiles spent a month absolutely miserable before finding his groove. He was putting the final brush strokes onto a painting of a jack-o-lantern with a tiny black kitten poking its head up out of it, the top of the pumpkin resting on its head like a hat, and glaring balefully out at the world when Scott snuck up behind him.

“Dude, that is exactly what Derek would look like if he were a kitten,” Scott laughed. Stiles jumped, barely avoiding smearing his painting with the brush.

Derek. The other reason Stiles wasn’t sure whether or not he liked Halloweentown.

Stiles didn’t like to admit that he was jealous, but he definitely was. Scott never shut up about Derek these days. Derek did this in training today, Derek told me that about werewolves, Derek was a star lacrosse player in high school, Derek this, Derek that. Stiles was really starting to hate the name Derek.

“Well, what do you know,” Stiles drawled, frowning at his painting.

“You guys should hang out sometime,” Scott continued, blissfully ignorant to Stiles’ feelings about Derek. “I think you’d totally like each other.”

“Right,” Stiles said. “Derek is a twenty-something alpha werewolf, I highly doubt he has any desire to hang out with a hundred forty-seven pounds of measly human.”

“Oh, no, Derek says it’s totally normal to have humans in a pack!” Scott said. “He says his younger brother is human, and so is one of his aunts and two of his cousins, and that a pack is stronger if it has humans to balance out the wolves.”

“Good for him,” Stiles said. “Sounds like he’s got all the balancing he needs, though, so I don’t see why - ”

“I just think it’d be nice if he met my pack,” Scott said. Stiles glanced at him and immediately got hit with Scott's famous puppy eyes, werewolf edition.

“Oh my - fine. Jesus, put those away,” Stiles grumbled, shoving his paintbrush into the mug of paint water. “I’ll meet your werewolf teacher. God.”

Scotty beamed. “You’ll totally love him,” he said.

Stiles was not so sure.

~-_-~-_-~

By the time Stiles had been in Halloweentown for about a month, he’d made up his mind that the move was, on the whole, a positive experience. This was mainly due to him making a friend, which was one friend more than he’d ever had back in the normal world. Allison Argent shared his practitioner's class in the afternoons, and her father worked with Stiles’ dad as a lawkeeper. They were both human, too, and Stiles and Allison bonded over being human in a town where that was a minority.

“I mean, I have a little Fury blood in me, from way way back, but my family hasn’t had powers in ten generations,” Allison said while trying to cast a spell to light the candle sitting in front of her. Stiles didn’t know why they were spending so much time trying to learn this particular spell. It took a lot less effort to just use a lighter. “We just get a little obsessive about justice sometimes.”

“That’s cool,” Stiles said, glaring as his candle smoked a little but refused to light. “Have you always lived in Halloweentown?”

“Since our Fury ancestor, yeah,” Allison said. “She married a warlock, their daughter married a human, their son, who didn’t have powers, moved back to the normal world, but his son moved back to Halloweentown because he fell in love with a human member of a werewolf pack, and we’ve been humans living here since.”

“Wow,” Stiles said. “So are you guys always in law enforcement?” His wick disappeared in a puff of smoke. “Crap,” he muttered, grabbing a new candle.

“Not always,” Allison said. “My dad got the Fury justice thing stronger than most.” She crowed in triumph as her candle caught on fire. The fire was purple, but still. Fire. “Are you doing anything after this?”

“For once, yeah,” Stiles said, giving up on his candle with a huff. “I’m supposed to meet Derek Hale later today.”

“Oh,” Allison said, looking surprised.

“Is that a bad ‘oh’?” Stiles asked, sitting bolt upright in his seat. “What’s wrong with Derek?” He wasn’t sure if he was excited that his suspicions might be right or worried for Scott. He generously told himself it was definitely just worry.

“Nothing’s wrong with him,” Allison said. “He’s a great guy, as far as I know. Our families just have ugly history.”

“Dude, is his family the mafia?” Stiles asked, his voice hushed.

“No!” Allison said. “There is no Halloweentown mafia, Stiles, we’ve been over this. No, it’s actually my family’s fault. My aunt dated his uncle for a while, and she set his house on fire when they broke up. He got trapped inside, almost died, and lost his mind.” She wrung her hands and didn’t meet Stiles’ eyes. Stiles got a sinking feeling.

“Wait, you’re not saying - ”

“Yep,” Allison said, sighing, staring into the candle flame like it was the fire her aunt had set. “My aunt was the one who drove Peter Hale feral.”

“Jesus,” Stiles said.

~-_-~-_-~

Stiles met Derek Hale, alright. He walked onto the lacrosse field to find Scotty after practitioner’s class, tripped on a crosse, and almost pitched head first into the guy. Derek caught him by the shoulders and set him back on his feet with a scowl, his gaze darting between him and Scott while one eyebrow slowly crawled its way up his forehead.

“Derek, this is my brother Stiles,” Scott beamed. Stiles waved awkwardly. Derek’s eyebrow disappeared into his hairline. Stiles wondered if that was a werewolf super power, disappearing eyebrows, since he didn’t think he’d ever seen one go that high before.

“Nice to meet you?” he tried.

“Right,” Derek grunted. He glared at Stiles some more before turning his back on him and telling Scott, “We’re done for the day. Tomorrow we’ll work on agility.” He shrugged on the mandatory black leather jacket - which completely matched his eyebrows, like, they actually made sense in the context of the jacket - and stalking off to the parking lot.

“Dude,” Stiles flailed. Scott looked a little confused.

“He’s usually much nicer,” he offered. “And he smelled funny, but I don’t know how to tell scents apart yet. Derek said we’d cover that after winter break.”

“Wait, do they even have seasons here?” Stiles asked suddenly, completely taken aback. 

“Not really,” Scott said. “It’s always fall. But they do make christmas cookies, apparently, and have breaks from school.”

“Weird,” Stiles said, slinging an arm around Scott’s mildly sweaty shoulder and forgetting all about Derek Hale.

~-_-~-_-~

Stiles was leaving his practitioner’s class the next day, walking backwards so he could call out a goodbye to Allison, when he walked into something large and solid. He landed on his back, blinking owlishly up at Derek.

“We have got to stop meeting this way,” he said. Derek glowered down at him.

“Get coffee with me,” Derek ordered.

“Um,” Stiles said. “Where’s Scott?”

“Sent him home early,” Derek said. “He’s earned a day off, he’s a hard worker.”

“Cool,” Stiles said blankly. “Coffee?”

“Yes,” Derek said, looking inexplicably pleased.

“Right, right,” Stiles said slowly. “I...actually have been meaning to ask someone, is there anywhere I can get coffee around here that isn’t a pumpkin spice latte?”

“I,” Derek started, then frowned. “I think you can get a gingerbread latte at the coffee shop down by the swamp? It’s kind of sketchy, but you’ll be fine if you’re with me.”

“Huh,” Stiles said. “Okay. I guess I’m good with pumpkin spice.”

“Okay,” Derek said. He stuck out a hand, which Stiles used to haul himself back up.

“Thanks, dude,” he said, trying to extricate his hand from Derek’s grip. Derek didn’t seem to believe that he was able to stay on his feet, though, hanging on even after Stiles had gotten to his feet. “Dude, just because I’m not a werewolf doesn’t mean I can’t manage to balance on my own,” he grumbled.

“Sorry,” Derek said, looking constipated. He let Stiles’ hand go abruptly.

“Right, well,” Stiles said. “Coffee then.” He set out for his jeep, Derek trailed behind looking stiff and uncomfortable, his hands shoved in his jacket pockets and his shoulders up around his ears. Stiles did his best to ignore the tension in the air.

“I can drive,” Derek said when they got to the parking lot. He nodded seriously towards a sleek black Camaro.

“Wow, nice car,” Stiles said. “So, I guess I’ll follow you there?”

“Oh,” Derek said. “Yes.” He stalked off towards his car. Stiles shrugged, not sure what was going on but pretty convinced he would be safer all around if he just went along with it.

~-_-~-_-~

Stiles got home just before dinner, after having realized what time it was at the coffee shop and bolting just as Derek was gearing up to say something about next week. Stiles was sure it couldn’t be too urgent, and Derek could always tell Scott to pass on the message after class tomorrow.

“So, dude, how was it?” Scott asked eagerly as soon as Stiles walked through the door.

“The coffee?” Stiles asked, confused. “We’ve gotten coffee there before, dude. Still just as sugary as ever.”

“Not the coffee,” Scott scoffed, “the date!”

“What date?” Stiles asked, confused and with a growing sense of dread welling up in his gut. “I definitely did not go on any dates today.”

“Yes you did,” Scott insisted. “I coached Derek through asking you all afternoon! Did you say no?” He gasped, scandalized. “Stiles! You need to at least give him a chance!”

“I didn’t say no,” Stiles protested, even as his idea of what that afternoon had been shifted drastically. “I didn’t say anything. He never said it was a date! He just wanted to get coffee!”

“I swear, you are the two densest people I know,” Scott growled, throwing his hands in the air. “Did you honestly not notice you were on a date?”

“Not at the time,” Stiles grumbled. “Trust me to completely miss my first date ever.”

“Well, did you at least agree to see him again?” Scott asked.

“I kind of ran out before he got around to asking,” Stiles admitted. “I was going to be late for dinner!” he added in his defense, seeing Scott start to puff up angrily. “I lost track of time!”

Scott deflated with an audible rush of air. “Aw, you were so caught up in each other that you lost track of time?” he cooed.

“Yeah, I guess,” Stiles said. “I dunno, I’d probably go on an actual date where I knew what was happening if he gave me another chance. I probably blew it, though.”

“No way,” Scott insisted, “he thinks you’re totally cute. He’ll definitely go out with you again.”

“Okay,” Stiles said, processing the idea of dating Derek Hale. He’d have to learn to read his eyebrows, but...those abs. Yeah. And he had enjoyed himself today… “Yeah. Okay. But,” he added, “I’m gonna ask him out. I will not be shy, blushing virgin any more!”

“Um,” Stiles heard from behind him, and spun around to see his dad standing in the doorway to the kitchen. “I was going to tell you boys that dinner was ready, but maybe we need to have a different conversation?”

“Oh my god no,” Stiles breathed out in horror.

“Are you sure?” his dad asked, squinting uncomfortably. 

“Neither of us want that,” Stiles said firmly. “Safe, sane, consensual, no glove, no love, I am so on top of this.”

“Actually, werewolves don’t even carry diseases,” Scott chimed in happily. “Derek told me we only have to worry about condoms if we want to avoid getting a girl pregnant.”

“Scotty, my man, shut up,” Stiles said. “You are not helping.”

Stiles’ dad took a deep breath and closed his eyes, grimacing. “We’ll talk more about that little tidbit after dinner,” he said finally. “Melissa made soup.”

“Yes,” Scott crowed. Stiles followed like a man being led to his own execution.

~-_-~-_-~

Derek was waiting outside practitioner’s again the next day, leaning against the wall in a leather jacket and sunglasses like a total douche.

“Dude, we are inside, and it’s cloudy out anyway,” Stiles said. Derek scowled.

“Maybe werewolves have sensitive eyesight,” he snapped, a faint blush rising on his cheeks. Stiles gawked.

“I mean, not really,” Allison piped up from behind Stiles. “They have really good eyesight, but it’s not necessarily super sensitive to sunlight.”

“Argent,” Derek growled.

“Sorry, sorry,” Allison laughed, seemingly unconcerned by the angry werewolf glaring at her. “Stiles, I’ll meet you at your house Friday?”

“Yep,” Stiles said. “See you tomorrow!”

“Bye!” Allison waved as she walked away. Stiles turned to Derek, whose eyebrows were scrunched together so tightly they disappeared into his sunglasses and whose shoulders were up around his ears. “What’s up, big guy?”

“Nothing,” Derek grumbled. “What’s Friday.”

“Dude, we have got to work on your punctuation,” Stiles said. “You know, question marks? You teach Scotty how to be a werewolf, and I teach you how to ask questions, that sounds like a fair trade to me.”

“Stiles,” Derek growled.

“What? Oh, sorry. We’ve got a group project, we’re supposed to practice using witches’ glasses without a witch to anchor the connection. Should be frustrating and pointless,” he said cheerfully. “I mean, haven’t they heard about the cell phone? Seriously.”

“Oh,” Derek said, relaxing a little. 

“Yeah, right?” Stiles said, hoisting his bag over his shoulder and heading for the parking lot. Derek trailed after him without saying anything. “Anyway, I kinda think we’re jumping a few steps, you know? We’ve just barely gotten our candles lit, and now they want us to anchor witches’ glasses?”

“Who’s your teacher?” Derek asked, clearing his throat.

“Mr. Piper. He’s, like, super smart, we’re pretty sure, but he also seems surprised whenever someone asks a question? Allison and I think he forgets we’re there and just starts rambling.”

“I had him for home room freshman year,” Derek said. “Half the class used the period to get some sleep. He never noticed.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles beamed. “That’s amazing, holy shit.”

“I - you should pay attention to your studies, though,” Derek said, looking a little panicked. 

“Dude, relax,” Stiles said. “This is only, like, the second-coolest thing that ever happened to me. I’m not about to blow off learning how to do actual magic.”

“Right,” Derek said. They stopped at Stiles’ jeep, Derek looking down at him with weird intensity. “I’ll see you,” he said, his eyebrows furrowing seriously.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, blushing inadvertently. “Um, yeah. Do you wanna maybe...hang out on Saturday?”

“Yes,” Derek said firmly.

“Okay,” Stiles said. “Well. I’ve always wanted to go apple picking?”

“Yes,” Derek repeated. “Yes, we can do that. I’ll pick you up.”

“Okay,” Stiles said. “Um, not before noon though? Because I, like, never wake up before noon on Saturdays.”

“That’s - that’s fine,” Derek said, flushing red. “I’ll see you...one? One.”

“Okay,” Stiles said faintly. Derek nodded once and stalked away, his leather-clad shoulders up around his ears again. “Oh my god,” he muttered under his breath. Derek tripped over nothing and then sped up, glancing completely unsubtly over his shoulder. Right. Werewolf healing. Well, that’s fine. Stiles didn’t mind a little embarrassment. He had a date on Saturday.


	2. Chapter 2

Scott didn’t get home until a couple hours after school let out on Friday, when Stiles and Allison were already halfway done with the prep work for their witch’s glass project. Stiles didn’t know what Scott had been doing that took so long. He’d seen the werewolf class on his way to his car. Derek and Scott had been out on the lacrosse field, sitting cross-legged in a circle with the rest of Derek’s pack, tossing a tiny pumpkin back and forth. Boyd had been wearing a flower crown. Stiles was dubious about Derek’s teaching methods.

“Hey, Scotty,” Stiles called, intercepting Scott as he made a beeline for the kitchen. “This is Allison. You two met before?”

“Nope,” Allison said, flipping her hair over her shoulder and smiling up at Scott. “Good to meet you.”

Scott dropped his apple. It splattered on the ground, just like his dignity. “Hi,” he said dumbly. “Um. Do you want - we’re out of apples, now, but I can make cookies?”

“Oh my god,” Stiles groaned.

“Actually, my pen’s running out of ink,” Allison admitted, glaring at where she’d been drawing circles on her paper to try to revive the pen. “Could I borrow one?”

“Yes,” Scott yelped, scrambling for his backpack. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Thanks,” Allison dimpled. Scott half sat down, half collapsed into the chair next to her. Stiles opened an old, dusty book pointedly in their direction, relishing their coughing fits as he dragged Allison’s attention back to their project.

“Right,” Allison sighed, using Scott’s pen to take notes about how glass thickness and metallic composition of the backing affected quality of sound transmitted through the witch’s glass. She only got a few lines in before turning back to Scott. “How has werewolf class been going?”

“Pretty good,” Scott said, beaming at her. “Derek’s a great teacher.”

“It’s his first year,” Allison said, “I’m glad he’s doing well.”

“How old is Derek, anyway?” Stiles asked, abandoning the project as a hopeless cause. Allison scrunched up her nose in thought.

“Nineteen or so?” she said, shrugging. “He graduated last year, not sure how old he is actually, though.”

“What, seriously? Huh. How is he a teacher, then?” Stiles asked. “Don’t you have to be, I don’t know, certified or something?”

“By who?” Allison asked, frowning. “His mom is the alpha, she decides all the werewolf stuff. Anyway, the werewolf teacher last year was Derek’s great grandma, and she was more interested in matchmaking than teaching, so pretty much anything would’ve been an improvement.”

“Oh,” Stiles said. “So he’s - ”

“Wait,” Scott interrupted. “How old did you think he was?”

“I dunno, twenty-seven?” Stiles guessed. “His eyebrows look like they’re in their twenties, you know they do.”

“You agreed to a date with a twenty-seven year old?” Scott yelped.

“He’s not actually twenty-seven,” Stiles grumbled.

“You didn’t know that until just now!”

“Look, someone with that kind of muscle mass asks me to get coffee with them, I don’t care if they’re thirty, I’m going to get coffee with them.”

“Werewolf six packs,” Allison agreed, nodding seriously. “Isaac and I had a thing in freshman year, it’s a really nice perk.”

Scott looked like someone had kicked his puppy. Stiles ignored him in favor of picturing Derek and his werewolf abs. “So nice,” he agreed with a sigh.

~-_-~-_-~

On Saturday, Derek showed up outside the house promptly at one with a huge scowl on his face. Stiles peeked out the window at him, ducking back when Derek noticed.

“He looks angry,” Stiles said to Scott, nervously tugging at his hoodie sleeves.

“He scowls when he’s happy,” Scott said, cheerfully hacking into a pumpkin with an unnecessarily large knife. “His angry scowl has more eyebrows. Don’t worry about it.”

“More eyebrows?” Stiles muttered to himself in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Scott said without looking up. “He’s about to knock on the door, by the way. You should get that.”

“How -” Stiles started to protest, but sure enough, was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Goddamn werewolves,” he grumbled, opening it to reveal Derek, one fist still raised. “Hi,” Stiles said, his nerves reappearing with a vengeance.

“Hi,” Derek said stiffly. “Um. Are you...ready to go?”

“Yep!” Stiles said, flailing out the door and slamming it behind him. “Your car or mine?”

Derek’s eyebrows unfurled a little. Stiles was starting to see what Scott meant. “Mine,” he said firmly.

“Okay, big guy,” Stiles said, patting him on the arm as he got into the passenger’s seat. “Take me to the apples!”

The apple orchard was a small affair, only meant to feed the population of Halloweentown, and, like all trees in Halloweentown, apparently boasted a never-ending supply of apples. Stiles had asked someone once how the trees always had new leaves. He’d gotten a serious side-eye. “It’s...magic,” the goblin had said, looking at Stiles as though he wasn’t sure whether or not Stiles was messing with him or not. In hindsight, maybe it had been an obvious answer.

Derek led them deep into the rows of trees, making a beeline for the Jonamac row. 

“Why Jonamacs?” Stiles asked.

“They’re my favorites. Really soft and sweet,” Derek said, examining the apples seriously before picking a smallish, perfectly round one with bright red skin. “Here,” he said, shoving it at Stiles. Stiles blinked and took a bite, holding back a groan of appreciation. The apple tasted lighter than the apples he was used to, the flesh soft but not meaty. He sucked at the bite mark to catch the juice starting to run down the side and flicked his tongue out over the edges of his lips, feeling his mouth getting all sticky.

Derek made a sound like he’d gotten punched, and Stiles glanced up at him to find him staring wide-eyed at Stiles’ mouth. The apple he’d been holding, the one he’d taken a good five minutes of thought to choose, was crushed in his fist, sticky juice dripping through Derek’s hand.

“Um,” Stiles said, biting at his lip. It still tasted like apple. “Did I...do something wrong?”

“No,” Derek barked, letting go of the apple mush in his hand suddenly, as though he’d just realized it was there. “No. Let’s try Cortland.”

Stiles shrugged and followed him deeper into the orchard.

~-_-~-_-~

It was hard to keep track of time in Halloweentown. The trees never changed, it was always sweater weather, and the school cafeteria served seasonal soups and apple pies every week. Stiles didn’t even realize the semester was ending until, while he was hanging out with Derek making caramel apples, Derek asked him if he wanted to have a picnic lunch next Wednesday.

“You’re a teacher, Derek, I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to encourage me to play hooky,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes and passing Derek another pointy stick.

Derek looked up, frowning. “There’s no school next week,” he said. “It’s first semester break.”

“What,” Stiles said, dropping his handful of sticks. “No way, it’s barely...I’ve only been here for…”

“A month and a half,” Derek said. “You got here during half semester break.”

“It’s December?” Stiles realized, heart sinking. “It’s almost Christmas.”

“I guess,” Derek said, dipping an apple on a stick into a pot of hot caramel. Stiles glanced out the window and drooped. The leaves were still vibrant, yellows and reds and oranges, and the temperature was still brisk but pleasant, and he wasn’t going to see snow on Christmas this year. “Are you alright?” Derek asked, looking up from his apples.

“I’m fine,” Stiles sighed.

~-_-~-_-~

“Hey, Stiles,” Scott whispered from across the room. Stiles groaned and pulled his covers up over his head. “Stiles!” Scott whisper-yelled.

“What?” Stiles groaned, pulling down his covers just enough to glare out at Scott. 

“Allison’s hair is so perfect,” Scott sighed happily, staring up at the ceiling with his arms crossed behind his head. 

“Oh my god,” Stiles groaned.

“Do you think she likes me?” Scott asked.

“Just ask her out,” Stiles groaned. “I’m her friend, I can’t read her mind. She likes werewolf abs, though, so...I dunno. Go for it.”

“But - ” Scott protested, looking at Stiles with big, brown puppy eyes.

“Ugh,” Stiles grumbled. “Scotty, my man, any girl would be lucky to go out with you. You’re like...like the hot girl. You know. The one everyone wants to be with.”

“I’m the hot girl?” Scott asked.

“You’re the hottest girl.”

“I’m the hot girl,” Scott said, smiling up at the ceiling again.

“Yes you are,” Stiles said. “Now go the fuck to sleep.”

~-_-~-_-~

Scott made more seasonal soup for dinner. Stiles was really starting to hate seasonal soup. They’d had season soup three days in a row.

“No, yesterday was butternut squash soup,” Scott said, still holding out a spoon for Stiles to taste. “This is carrot and apple.”

“On my day to cook, I’m going to make pizza,” Stiles grumbled.

“I made pizza two weeks ago,” Scott said.

“You made pumpkin pizza with feta cheese and olive oil instead of sauce,” Stiles said. “That does not count. Mine is going to have tomato sauce and literal tons of mozzarella.”

“Scott, that smells great,” Stiles’ dad said as he walked into the room. Scott offered him the spoon instead, and he made an appreciative humming noise. Stiles glowered

“So, Stiles,” his dad said, leaning against the counter with a shit-eating grin on his face. “I hear you’ve got yourself a boyfriend.”

Stiles shot a look of betrayal at Scott. Scott shrugged at him, stirring his soup. “I mean, I - yep. Yep, that is true.”

“Hmm,” Stiles’ dad said, tapping his fingers on the counter ominously. 

“It’s Derek Hale and he’s nineteen, not twenty seven, and we went apple picking,” Stiles blurted, breaking as always under his father’s interrogation.

“Derek’s a good kid,” Stiles’ dad said. “Did you think he was twenty-seven?”

“Only a little,” Stiles said. 

“Wait, you agreed to go out with a twenty-seven year old man?”

“Oh my god,” Stiles groaned. His dad was not hiding his smirk very well at all.

“Soup’s ready!” Scott chirped.

“Stiles, set the table,” his dad said, fetching water glasses. Stiles got out the silverware, grumbling about interfering family members the whole way.

~-_-~-_-~

Stiles woke up to a loud crash from downstairs. He stumbled downstairs in just his boxers to gape at the sight of Derek wrestling a pine tree - and how did he even find a pine tree, Stiles would like to know, because evergreens are not a common tree in Halloweentown - with little sparkly witches’ lights on the boughs into a little stand in the corner of Stiles’ living room. It looked nothing like the tree Stiles and his dad put up in their old house every year, but somehow, it couldn’t have looked more like Christmas.

“Merry Holidays,” Derek beamed at him, needles poking out of his scruff.

“Derek,” Stiles whispered, looking between the Christmas tree and his boyfriend in awe. “Thank you! How did you - ” he trailed off, shaking his head and rushed down the last few steps to throw his arms around the werewolf.

“You’re welcome,” Derek said, wrapping arms still prickly from the shed needles around Stiles. Stiles winced a little at the feeling of the needles digging into his skin.

“Derek,” he said, wriggling around in Derek’s hold until his face was inches away from Derek’s. “Can I…” he trailed off, his fingers running over one of Derek’s cheekbones. Derek looked lost.

“Yes,” he rasped, his not-quite-hazel eyes locked onto Stiles’ lips. Stiles leaned forward, gingerly pressing them against Derek’s own. His lips were soft and a little dry, and yielded sweetly as Stiles’ lips moved against them. Derek inhaled sharply, his eyes fluttering shut as Stiles tipped his head so that their lips fit better against each other. “Stiles,” Derek breathed into Stiles’ mouth.

“Good to see you, Derek,” Stiles’ dad drawled from behind them. Stiles flailed so hard he knocked both himself and Derek over, landing in a pile of limbs underneath the Christmas tree. 

“Hi, Dad,” Stiles croaked.

“Sir,” Derek managed, sounding like a strangled cat.

“Thank you for the tree, Derek, it’s very nice,” Stiles’ dad said. “Feel free to come over for Christmas movies. If I can track some down, that is.”

“Feel free means it’s an order,” Stiles whispered.

“Yes, thank you, I got that,” Derek whispered back. “Thank you, sir, I will do that,” he added in a normal tone.

“Well,” Stiles’ dad said. “I guess we’ll see you on Sunday, then, if that works for you.”

“Yes, sir, that’s fine,” Derek said, trying to extract his arm from under one of Stiles’ legs. Stiles tried to help, but only succeeded in getting them more tangled up.

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” Stiles’ dad said, sounding far too amused at their predicament. “You know, within earshot.”

“Yes, thank you, Dad, got it,” Stiles groaned. His dad laughed. 

~-_-~-_-~

Stiles and Allison gave their presentation on witches’ glasses on the last Friday of the semester. Stiles was just setting out the collection they’d gathered for a visual display when Allison started fidgeting in his general direction. He tried to ignore it, but her twitchy hands were too close to the glasses for comfort.

“What’s up,” he sighed.

“Scott asked me out,” she blurted.

“Finally,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. “Did you say yes?”

Allison nodded, beaming. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay with it,” she said. “I mean, he’s your brother, and you’re my friend, and I don’t want anything to be weird.”

“Nah,” Stiles said, smiling. “I’m happy for you two. Just don’t hurt him, alright?”

“I can agree to that,” Allison said, and threw her arms around him in a way too tight hug. Stiles fumbled the witches’ glass he’d been holding, but nothing broke, so that was fine.

~-_-~-_-~

The only “Christmas movie” Stiles’ dad managed to find was The Nightmare Before Christmas. The Stilinski-McCall family (plus Derek) still sat down together to watch it. By the time the movie was over, Stiles was half in Derek’s lap and Stiles’ dad and Melissa were both fast asleep.

“Christmas seems like such a melancholy holiday,” Derek said soft enough to not wake up their parents. “It’s cold and dark and grey all the time.”

“But the point of the holiday is how people come together and find beauty in the dark,” Scott said from his corner of the couch. “It’s being warm inside with your family while it’s cold and dark outside, and it’s playing in the snow and cutting down trees and having fun even in the cold.”

“It just seems easier to never be cold at all,” Derek said. Stiles felt him shrug, his shoulders lifting him briefly where he was lying against Derek’s side.

“Easier, maybe,” Stiles said. “But not necessarily better.”

~-_-~-_-~

There was no spring in Halloweentown, so instead of spring break, they had half semester break. Stiles and Derek had two weeks off, and both of his parents were on night shift for the first week. Stiles spent maybe five hours total at his house that first week.

They didn’t actually have penetrative, penis-in-ass sex that week. Not because they were purposefully avoiding it, but because they spent too much time exploring each other’s bodies with their hands and mouths to get to that point. Stiles still considered it a week long process of losing his virginity.

“Derek,” he murmured, laying naked on Derek’s chest, idly tangling his fingers in Derek’s sweaty chest hair.

“Hmm,” Derek sighed, mostly asleep.

“Tell me more about Halloweentown. Is there like, college here?”

“Yes,” Derek said, huffing a breath of a laugh. “But it’s pretty much useless. It used to be a school for witches and warlocks to study magic, and when they opened it up to everyone else, they took out the practical magic and didn’t replace it with anything.”

“Oh,” Stiles said. “Then what do people do after high school?”

“You find something you like doing and do it,” Derek said, slowly running one hand up and down Stiles’ back. “A lot of people get jobs while school is out so they can try to find something they like doing. Other people just try a lot of different things until they find the right fit. A lot of people go to college in your world if they don’t know yet what they want to do. There’s not as much of a rush to figure it out as there is in your world.”

“Huh,” Stiles said. “So do you think you’re going to be the werewolf teacher for the rest of your life?”

“I like it,” Derek said. “I think so.”

“It’s nice that you already know all that,” Stiles sighed. 

“It is nice,” Derek said, smiling. “I’ll always know my place in the pack, though, and that grounds me more than knowing my role in the community. I’ve been a werewolf all my life. Being part of my pack, that will always be the most important part of me. That’s never going to change.”

“I wish I knew all that,” Stiles admitted. “I don’t know anything about my life yet.”

“You will,” Derek said, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ forehead. “Give it time.”

Stiles smiled and reached up, meeting Derek’s lips with his own. They quickly abandoned the conversation for something much more interesting.

~-_-~-_-~

The second semester seems to fly by. Once Stiles gets the hang of Halloweentown classes, it seems strange to remember what they were like in the normal world. Stiles finishes his sophomore year with good grades (though literally nobody in Halloweentown seems to care about those), good friends in Allison and Derek’s pack, who have welcomed him with open arms, and a really, really good boyfriend. 

“I was talking to my mom the other day,” Derek said, passing Stiles an apple to eat on the drive to the small party the pack was throwing to celebrate the end of the year.

“Oh, how is she doing?” Stiles asked, taking a big bite and enjoying the way Derek’s eyes traced the path of a droplet of juice down his chin. He always recognized it now when Derek wanted him. 

“Fine,” Derek said after clearing his throat. “She actually wanted me to let you know that she might have a job for you over the break. Our raven keeper, Braeden, just had a baby, and would like some help taking care of the ravens.”

“You guys have ravens?” Stiles asked. “I’ve never seen your ravens.”

“Of course we have ravens,” Derek said, “we’re a wolf pack, we have to have ravens. And you haven’t seen them because Braeden just had a baby, they’ve been staying close to home.”

“Well, I mean, I’ve never worked with ravens before,” Stiles said.

“That’s alright, she’ll show you what to do,” Derek said. “She just needs someone to do grunt work so she has more time to take care of her daughter.”

“I mean, I guess that sounds alright,” Stiles said. “Tell your mom thanks for me?”

“Yeah, of course,” Derek said. He pulled into the apartment, the others already there. “Now, let’s go celebrate.”

~-_-~-_-~

Braeden is human, always has her infant in her arms, and is still somehow the single most terrifying person Stiles has met in Halloweentown. He gets the impression that, should he harm or neglect any of the ravens, not even the Hale pack would be able to sniff out his remains.

That’s okay, though. If someone else hurt the ravens, Stiles would help her in an instant. He’d fallen in love with the ravens almost immediately.

They were smart, and social, and each one had its own personality. None of them liked Cora, which was sort of hilarious, and apparently due to an incident from back when Cora was a toddler and pulled out one of the juveniles’ flight feathers. “Ravens don’t forget,” Braeden told Stiles sternly when he asked. “They remember everything.”

The matriarch of the conspiracy - which was apparently what a group of ravens was called, which Stiles completely disagreed with, because his ravens were completely straightforward about what they demanded of him - was an old raven named Corinth. She bossed all the other ravens around, but put an immediate stop to any bullying from within the ranks. She treated Stiles like a servant, demanding food and attention whenever she wanted it and ignoring his existence whenever she didn’t.

The juveniles were more welcoming. They weren’t nearly as sophisticated as Corinth or the other full grown ravens, and would tumble around on air currents or dive into piles of leaves or pull Stiles’ hair and then fly away cr-r-rucking loudly. They never seemed to run out of energy. They also were less careful about not pooping on their keeper’s shoulders than the adults. Stiles went through a lot of shirts.

Stiles even got to name one of the season’s babies. He called her Agnieszka, after his grandmother. Braeden smiled mysteriously and told him that Aggie was a good, strong name. Stiles wrinkled his nose and kept calling her Agnie, “like a proper little Polish raven”, he would croon to her. 

Working with the raven keeper also meant that Stiles was now privy to all of the Hale pack formal events. He had to dress up in an old fashioned linen shirt with ruffles and a waistcoat and then stand there looking official while ravens pooped on his fancy clothes. Stiles swore one of the juveniles, a smallish male named Frey, shot him looks whenever he managed to interrupt a particularly ceremonious moment. Braeden insisted he was making it up, but Stiles could see her exchanging her own looks with Corinth whenever Talia got particularly pretentious, so he was calling bullshit on that one.

At the end of the summer, Braeden asked Stiles if he wanted to come back to work for her again next summer. Stiles agreed, and only realized later that he would be back in the normal world in only a few more weeks.

~-_-~-_-~

Stiles and Derek still didn’t have penetrative sex very often. They both enjoyed it, but they were usually too impatient, and neither of them really liked dealing with the mess. 

The night Stiles realized he only had another six weeks left in Halloweentown, he all but insisted Derek hold him down and fuck him.

Derek seemed to realize something was wrong. He moved slowly, making intense eye contact and pressing kisses against Stiles’ face and throat. After they’d both come and Derek had Stiles wrapped up snugly in his arms, he quietly asked what was wrong.

Stiles had to close his eyes before answering. “I...I’m leaving soon,” he admitted finally. Derek tensed up, his arms drawing Stiles in impossibly closer to his chest.

“I know,” he admitted. “I know.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” Stiles said, his voice wavering. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes, and he angrily dashed them away with the back of his hand. “I love you, Derek.”

“I love you, too,” Derek said. “I wish...I wish I could go with you,” he said in a rush, but shook his head almost immediately. “But Stiles, I can’t leave my family,” Derek said, his eyes dark with heartbreak. “They’re my pack, I can’t...I can’t leave them.”

“I know you can’t,” Stiles said, “but I can’t leave mine, either. I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

“Me, neither,” Derek admitted quietly. Stiles felt his stomach lurch.

“For now, I guess,” he whispered, “you could just hold me.”

“I can do that,” Derek said, and wrapped his arms around Stiles, pulling him up against his chest and kissing the top of his head. Stiles lay his head on Derek’s shoulder and clung to him, his eyes screwed shut, just feeling the weight of Derek’s arms around his waist.

~-_-~-_-~

Stiles wasn’t too proud to admit that he moped for about a month straight. Whenever it was his night to make dinner, he made seasonal soup or roasted butternut squashes or apple salads. He made more pumpkin pies with Derek than even a werewolf pack could finish in one sitting, and then went home and made a healthier pear bundt cake for his parents. Scott looked vaguely queasy, but ate a piece in solidarity. Stiles loved him more than ever in that moment.

He started packing before anyone else, and then unpacked everything again at two in the morning on a school night. Melissa came downstairs while he was trying to put back the cake pans and sat with him while he cried, but then she still made him go to school in the morning, so Stiles wasn’t sure how many mom points she won there.

In the first week of October, his parents sat him and Scott down with serious expressions. Stiles slouched in his seat, avoiding eye contact.

“I know,” his dad said heavily, “that our move here was difficult and...unexpected. But I think we’ve done pretty well here.”

“But we also know that none of us really had much choice in coming here,” Melissa said. “So your father and I wanted to make sure that what we do from here on out, we all have a say in.”

Stiles felt his heart skip a beat. “Wait,” Scott said. “Are you guys...we might be…”

“If you want to stay,” Melissa said, “we can. Your father and I have talked, and we would be happy with either decision.”

Stiles flailed off the couch. He could keep his friends, his pack, his ravens, his _Derek_... “Yes,” he yelped. “Yes, I want to stay.” 

“Me too,” Scott said, his face practically glowing. He reached a hand down to help Stiles up off the floor. “We fit better here than we ever did back in the normal world. I want to stay.”

“Then I guess we’re staying,” Melissa said, smiling. Stiles scrambled over to give her a hug, drawing his dad in as well. Scott followed, slipping into the group hug easily.

“Thank you,” he said, squeezing extra tight. “Thank you, thank you…”

“I’m glad you’re happy, son,” his dad said. 

“I think we all are,” Melissa said, pressing a kiss to both Stiles’ and Scott’s heads.

~-_-~-_-~

Stiles slammed into Derek’s apartment like a force of nature. Neither stairs nor doors nor side tables with fragile lamps on them could stop him. Derek looked a little dismayed.

“Derek, I can stay!” Stiles yelled as he smashed into Derek’s chest. Derek, the sturdy werewolf that he was, caught him with only a slight step backwards. “We’re staying, all of us, in Halloweentown! I can stay!”

“You’re staying?” Derek said, clutching at Stiles’ arms. “You can - you’re going to stay?”

“Yes!” Stiles crowed, throwing his arms around Derek’s neck and crushing his lips to Derek’s. “Forever and ever and - ” Derek broke him off by picking him up and spinning him around until they were both laughing breathlessly.

“I get to keep you,” Derek said, beaming.

“Yeah, you do,” Stiles beamed back.

“Oh my god,” Derek said, laughing again. “Laura’s going to be so jealous, her subpack doesn’t have its own raven keeper yet, I totally beat her.”

“Oh, sure, that’s what you think of first,” Stiles snorted, pretending to be offended. He crossed his arms and pouted. “Romantic.”

“I can’t help it,” Derek said, sweeping in to press kisses all over Stiles’ face. Stiles snickered when his beard tickled his eyelids. “You’re mine. You’re my boyfriend, my raven keeper, my Stiles…”

“You forget,” Stiles said, wrapping his arms back around Derek’s neck. “You’re mine, too.”

“I already knew that,” Derek said, blushing. “I’ve been yours for awhile now.”

Stiles buried his head in Derek’s neck, the reality that he got to have this forever finally hitting him. “I love you,” he said. “Forever.”

“Forever,” Derek agreed, kissing Stiles’ forehead. “That sounds really nice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks! I do have some headcanons about what happens later - the biggest one is that Scott and Allison end up going to college in the normal world, and Stiles and Allison use the witches' glasses they finally managed to make to keep in touch - but I got to the end here and decided they didn't fit within _if we shadows_. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the story. Happy Halloween!


End file.
